Hey
by rafiela
Summary: Steroline in all Christmas fluff glory. There's eggnog and ham and scotch and (gasp!) a lot of kissing. You've been warned.


**AN: I wanted to post something before the Christmas craziness ensues. And of course, it's all fluff and Christmas-y. I'm cliché like that.**

**Without further ado...**

* * *

There's eggnog and ham and Christmas cookies together with several bottles of alcoholic beverages ready to be devoured. And there's plenty more waiting in the kitchen, the cupboards almost refusing to close with all the stuff they brought home from the store. She shakes her head because she truly did not expect that anyone can be more fond of this particular holiday than she is. Especially not Stefan.

If his humming and voluntary Christmas shopping was not enough proof, then his reindeer head dress and holiday themed apron should be.

She lets out a little laugh when she finds her own Christmas wear waiting for her in one of the stools by the center island, hiding behind a bag of flour and an entire set of measuring cups, the same reindeer headband and the apron in a smaller size.

"Kitchen!" he shouts, momentarily suspending his rendition of _Feliz Navidad_.

"I heard your Christmas carols even before parking the car, but thank you for letting me know."

He can't help but smile at the cadence carried through the kitchen wall, happy they decided to spend their first Christmas alone.

"Are we revealing our secret hiding place to our friends tonight? Coz I have no intention of stuffing my face with all those cookies, no matter how much chocolate chip you put in them, thank you very much," she says as she returns to fixing the table, setting two plates along with their corresponding sets of silverware.

He abandons his work plating the ham at her jibe, wiping his hands off and setting the flame low on the fish soup still simmering on the stove.

"Says the one who's bought enough alcohol to put the Salvatore stash to shame. And here I thought I was the alcoholic," he says as he approaches, smile already plastered wide on his face.

She feels his chest press onto her back, arms snaking around her waist. He keeps them there even as she struggles to place the final pieces on the table, laugh reverberating against her back when she tries and repeatedly fails to line the candles in the middle of the table.

After one last failed attempt, she gives up and discards the culprits on the wooden surface. One rolls off and drops to the floor as she sighs and drops her head.

He tilts her jaw to the side to gain access and presses his lips to hers. When his arms travel to each side of her face, she turns to face him, lifting herself to her toes and holding him in place with a hand on his neck.

He lifts her up as she teases his lower lip with her tongue, legs wrapping around his waist. He walks them to the kitchen, his hand on the small of her back for support. The bowl of batter and her Christmas costume land on the floor when he swipes the surface with his arm to make more room.

He breaks the kiss to give another warm laugh, his breath hot on her face.

"We have more than enough cookies anyway," she says, trying to resume their makeout session.

He allows her a chaste kiss before pulling back further.

"We need to finish making dinner, babe," he says in reply to her questioning look.

When he finds her signature adorable pout pointed at him, he feels like his heart might burst in his chest so he acquiesces, gathering her once again in his arms and kissing her with even more passion than before.

"But who needs Christmas cookies, right?" he amends.

He decides that her resounding laughter sounds a million times better when he can feel it escape her lips not a hair's width apart from his.

* * *

When Stefan finally admits he's made more than they can possibly finish, she picks up a random bottle and leads him to the fireplace by hand. They settle themselves on the expanse of their Persian rug with her back pressed to his chest. He reaches out to grab a blanket folded neatly on the arm of the couch and wraps it around them both, arms resting snuggly across Caroline's warm stomach.

His chin rests contentedly on her shoulder, lips brushing the skin of her ear when he says "I love you."

The past year has been particularly hard on them both, their journey riddled with sharp turns and deep potholes, but they trudged on, hand in hand.

A happy sigh makes its way from her lips and she moves to snuggle even closer.

She reaches back to brush her palm on his cheek and he leans into the touch as she rubs her thumb on the curve of his jaw, feeling the soft skin punctuated by the beginnings of a stubble.

When she feels his lips on the palm of her hand, she realizes she hasn't said it back. "I love you."

They've only said the words a couple of times and she likes that.

She likes that he knows she doesn't want to be the type of couple who makes it sound like a casual greeting blurted out every morning as the other drives away, the type who says it with a hoarse voice in the throes of passion. They think before they say it, run it through every filter in their heads and in their chests, and each time it means more because they understand that it's not said out of pleasure or habit. They say it for the only reason that matters. They say it because they mean it.

Even though she's known to have a constant stream of words flowing from her mouth, armed with a sarcastic remark or an saccharine compliment whenever necessary; even though she has several options poised at the tip of her tongue, she actually means everything she says. She says it in her tone when she watches him struggle with blood every now and then. She says it in every _take care, have fun,_ and _come home_. She says it in so many ways, with so many words but she always, always means it.

And with him it's different, because clearly, he's the proverbial _man of few words_, each word loaded with purpose and meaning. And when he says it, he does so in a way that's more than just letters strung together to form a word, more than just syllables carried by the wind. He says it with his arms - secure and welcoming and _just always there_. He says it with his eyes, bare and pure and lovely; with his breath, with his _self_.

They sit like that for a while, wrapped in a tight bundle of warmth and happiness.

Stefan is first to break the silence. "Hey."

She laughs at the inside joke. _Maybe_ Hey _will be our always._

He sits up a little, tugs on her arm for her to face him. She moves so she's straddling him, ankles once again crossing behind his back.

"Hey," she answers.

She knows him well enough to know how stoic he can be, his feelings filed away in the deepest crevices of his mind, but when she looks up to meet his eyes, she finds none of the sort. All she's met with is absolute surrender. He's laid his soul bare for her to see, to hold, to keep.

Her vision blurs with tears but she quickly laughs when he finds his face panicked, hands automatically caressing her cheeks.

"Care, what's wrong? We can have wine right this moment if you really want to," jokingly reaching behind her for the forgotten bottle, but she wraps her hand around his outstretched arm.

She brings it back to its earlier position, planted safely on her cheek.

"I'm scared," she explains, tears finally rolling down the hills of her cheeks as she closes her eyes.

She's scared because he's finally trusting her with this, with him. He's finally allowing her full access to his entirety, the truth of his past, the honesty in his present and the hope for his future. She's scared she might not be able to handle it, the responsibility, and of course, she's scared he will hurt her. Because, let's be honest here, they aren't perfect.

She takes his hands in hers and allows them to fall between their pressed bodies as she rests her cheek on his shoulder, her lips touching the curve of his neck.

"I've never been so happy in my life. I'm so profoundly happy," she pauses, tears now flowing freely.

He listens hard, intent on hearing every emotion tucked into each sibilant of her speech. He's let go of her hands in favor of her hips and her words have roused them to travel the length of her sides, up and down, in time with her breath.

"I'm scared, Stefan," she's pulled back now, so she can once again stare into his soul reflected in his eyes.

"Because they only ever let you be this happy if they're about to take something away."

Right as she thinks it, she knows there's no way she's walking out of this without a fight. She knows she's in too deep, and if carrying the responsibility and facing the pain is the only way, then she's ready for it.

It breaks his heart to watch her like this, to witness first hand the result of so many years of pain and abandonment, and it breaks even more when he realizes he once was the face on these monsters she's been battling for so long.

But that was a year ago. She's forgiven him for the unanswered calls and he's forgiven himself for abandoning the one person in the world who's always had his back.

He stares right back at the lovely blue orbs, willing his green ones to convey every bit of love he has for her.

"Caroline," he begins, thumbs wiping the wet trail on her face.

"They can take whatever they want. They can even take me." He hears her breath hitch, her heart beat a little faster.

"But I will always find my way back. Always. I promise."

They never use the _p_ word, because they both understand that a lot of things can happen, a lot of things can get in the way. And judging by their record, it's highly likely that it will.

But he realizes that if he's only allowed one promise for the rest of eternity, he's happy to make it with Caroline.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this as much as I struggled writing it. Points to anyone who spots a few lines I borrowed from Kite Runner. Leave me a review please! Merry Christmas!**


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